Over the Rainbow
by Lauren Morgan
Summary: Connie and Ric, rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Her vision blurred, darkened and cleared. She stood on the edge, watching as the small white coffin was lowered gently into the ground. Sweet smelling earth was scattered over the top, covering the surface slowly at first, then in great clumps as shovels of dirt covered up the tiny body that nestled within. A three-foot box, a foot for every year. She was aware of people moving around her, an endless sea of black. Then she felt strong arms wrap around her, pulling her back from the brink. "Come inside Connie, your not completely well yet." The man's voice was warm, his eyes filled with concern for his wife. "I'm fine Michael." It wasn't a lie, not completely. She wasn't hysterical over the loss of her daughter, as most people had expected her to be. After all, this was Connie. Warm, funny, caring Connie, who wore her heart on her sleeve for all to see. "Besides," she added, turning towards the man and resting her head on his chest, "it's not that cold." It was true, for November the weather was unusually mild. The few remaining autumn leaves were trodden into a sea of mud, but the sky was a pale blue hue. The watery sunlight illuminated everything. Almost everything. The narrow gaping hole where their daughter now lay was cold, dark and lifeless. Michael gently pulled Connie away from the grave, towards the car and they drove off, shattering the silence of the graveyard.

Inside the car remained quiet, Connie and Michael both lost in their own thoughts as they made their way along the narrow country lanes. They sat as close together as possible; each afraid of loosing the only person they had left. Connie's head remained on Michael's chest; the steady beat of his heart reassuring her. Michael continued to hold Connie close to him, having already come close to loosing her just a few short weeks ago. He wished he could know what was going on behind those deep hazel eyes, wanting to be able to take away all the pain she was going through. Instead he just kept her in his arms, being careful not to hurt her any more than she already had been. As the car stopped, the reluctantly got out and walked into where they were celebrating their daughter's short life.

"Such a terrible accident." "And so young." "Connie must be heartbroken.""She still isn't herself, poor girl." She let the voices wash over her as she passed them, oblivious to their pitying looks. Michael stood talking to her boss quietly. "I'm really worried about her, she isn't eating, she barely sleeps and she wont talk to me."

"I know Michael, just give her time. Do you want me to try talking to her?"

"Please, she doesn't listen to me, just stares into space. It's as though I'm not there." The other man slowly walked over to where Connie was standing. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Connie, you take as much time as you need before you come back to work." Connie's eyes focused on the man, her mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm coming back next week."

"I know you want to, but if it's too soon…" Connie cut him of sharply "This is my decision and I don't need you making it for me."

"Have it your way Connie, just don't bury yourself in work. You need to live as well."

Eleven years later Connie Beauchamp sat up in bed with a start, trying to remember what had woken her so suddenly. The accident, the funeral, the dream had seemed so real. Slowly she pulled back the duvet and headed into the bathroom where she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked old and tired she thought, the last few months clearly having taken their toll on her. Her eyes were now dull, and had dark circles under them, although they were usually covered by make-up. Splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to wake up, she thought back to what her old consultant had said to her at the wake. She whispered the words softly to herself, "Have it your way Connie, just don't bury yourself in work. You need to live as well". As she slowly got ready for work, dressing in her favourite navy power suit, she couldn't help but think that he was right. She had devoted her life to her work, and now she had nothing else left.


	2. Chapter 2

As Connie drove her car through the outskirts of Holby towards the city centre, she tried to remember what the dream had been. All she remembered was emptiness, feeling absolutely nothing. That frightened her. Most of the people she worked with wouldn't believe that she had feelings; they thought that she was just a cold-hearted dictator, only out for what she could get. The way she treated them she couldn't say that she blamed them. The only person that Connie had ever felt anywhere near close to was Ric. After her first day when they had had sex on the sofa in her office, she had lain in his arms dozing quietly. In those few moments she had felt closer to him that she had to Michael in all their years of marriage. Michael's relationship with her had purely been a convenient arrangement. There was no love, no friendship, and certainly nothing like the sex she had had with Ric. Even though he had only known her for a few hours he still managed to make her feel incredibly special. Even after the way she had treated him he still cared about her, at least, she hoped so. After Elliot's first day she had felt completely out of control. She had lost her job to someone who in her opinion was entirely unworthy of it, her reputation was none existent, and yet Ric still took the time to listen to her. He knew her well enough not to comment on the tears that shone briefly in her eyes that day, he just let her talk, or rather moan at what the NHS was coming to. Ric knew her almost better than she knew herself; with him she was so vulnerable… Shaking her head slightly she forced herself to concentrate on driving. Connie didn't do vulnerable or weak, not with anyone. Attempting to stop her thoughts wandering any further, Connie flicked on the car stereo and began singing along. As she sang the familiar words she let all her emotions flow out of her before finally fixing in place her mask, ready for the day ahead.

Connie parked her car in her space and strode into her hospital, up to the fifth floor. Avoiding eye contact with anyone except fellow surgeons, she made her way to her office where Elliot was already in residence. Despite their early differences Connie was beginning to learn to tolerate him, although at times it was a struggle. Elliot thrived on chaos; he was informal, messy and refused to be moulded into a more acceptable form, despite her best efforts, the exact opposite of everything Connie tried to be. "Good morning Connie," Elliot mumbled through his sandwich.

"Morning Elliot, late breakfast is it?" At this Elliot looked up from the mess of papers on his desk. "I was wondering if you could take a look at something for me before this morning meeting? It would only take a moment." Sighing Connie dropped her bag and coat on her desk and walked over to where Elliot was sifting through a jumbled mess of papers. "Ah, found them. Have a look and see what you think." Connie sank down into her chair and started reading through the figures Elliot was proposing. Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up. "Anything wrong Mr Hope?" she enquired.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"Really, and why would that be?"

"Your not yourself. Usually you would have made comments on me eating, told me that you're not my personal assistant and that I really ought to tidy my desk."

"Am I honestly that predictable?" Connie asked worriedly.

"Well we do share an office, and you haven't answered my question."

"I'm fine Mr hope, as are these, now if you don't mind I have plenty of my own paperwork to be getting on with before this mornings list."

Tossing the papers back over to Elliot, Connie began to wade through her least favourite part of being a consultant. When she was a junior she had only minimal paperwork to do, but nowadays with everyone willing to sue anyone else at the slightest opportunity there was so much red tape to wade through it was ridiculous. Sighing quietly and praying to all existing deities for a trauma that would need her urgent attention, Connie began to type up a long list of patients' details. Thanks to the new IT overhaul everything had to be added on to the computer as well as her writing it out. Sparing a thought for the even shorter lists that would occur as a lack of time she began to type.

They worked in silence until around eleven when Connie delightedly threw the last set of notes on the pile and stretched out to learn back in her chair with a contented sigh. Elliot glanced up from where he was still grappling with his own papers. "I take it you've finished then?" he asked.

"Yes, thank goodness." Walking over to the coffee maker, which neither of them had completely worked out how to use, she poured herself her fix before a gruelling list of operations. "Want one?"

"Yes please, you know I've never met a surgeon who hated paperwork as much as you do." Connie could feel her hackles rising at his remark and had a hard time keeping her voice level. "Of course I hate it, it takes up time which could be spent doing what I was actually trained to do, which was in case you'd forgotten Mr Hope, being a surgeon."

"Alright alright, there's no need to bite my head off. I was only making conversation."

"Any post come today?" Connie asked, depositing his coffee on the only visible space of his desk. "Ah yes, I knew there was something I forgot." Elliot said, rummaging around. "Here it is." Connie took the letter back to her desk and opened it. Quickly skimming through its contents she tossed it onto her desk and uttered one word. "Fuck."


End file.
